Quickdraw
by dabbling
Summary: When Little Joe's friend comes to visit for a few days, the two get into a heap of trouble! Little Joe as a child in this one. Previously posted on Behind the Wagon.
1. Chapter 1

Quickdraw

Chapter 1

The two men stood in the street, 10 yards away from each other. Fingers twitched over their holsters, and sweat began to pop out in beads on their foreheads. Ritchie Bevers blinked away the sweat that fell into his eye, and imagined that he'd seen Bart Connor's hand move. He drew and fired, and was shocked when he felt the lead tear through his leg. He fell, and the dust quickly attached itself to his sweaty skin. Soon he was surrounded by concerned onlookers.

Despite Adam's firm grip on him, ten year old Little Joe had seen the shootout in its entirety through a small hole between Adam's elbow and chest. He tried to hide his excitement from his big brother. "C'mon, Joe, let's get outta here," Adam commanded, leading the boy by the elbow to the loaded buckboard.

Adam was very quiet on the ride home, and to Joe, it looked like he was angry. "I'm sorry, Adam," Joe said, thinking he'd done something wrong.

"What for, Little Joe?" Adam inquired.

"I dunno, but you sure look mad. I musta done somethin'," Joe explained.

Adam let go a small smile. He put his arm around the boy. "I'm not mad at you, Joe. I'm mad at the men who were fighting."

"Mr. Bevers and Mr. Connor? Why?"

Adam thought for a long time. He had to be careful how he answered.. He wanted Joe to learn to be smart about when and how to defend his honor, not like the two men today. He also knew that he couldn't defame the two men who fought today, or Joe would end up in trouble for not showing respect to his elders. "Joe, there's a time to fight, and a time not to, and today those men let their whiskey bottles do their deciding for them. They're just lucky no one was killed."

"Whattaya mean, let the whiskey bottles decide?"

"Joe, when a man drinks too much, he doesn't think clearly."

Joe laughed. "Oh, yeah, and sometimes he can't walk too good, neither. Remember when Mr. Denton came to the house that time? First he fell off his horse and then he was walking all over the place trying to get to the door!"

Adam made a sad clicking sound with his mouth. "I remember. It's best not to talk about those kind of things, Joe." They rode in silence for a while.

"Have you ever been drunk, Adam?"

There was a long silence, and Joe thought Adam was ignoring him. "Yes, Joe, I have."

Joe was shocked. He stared wide-eyed at his brother. "Why?"

Oh, that was a loaded question. Adam snapped the reins a little, wanting the ride to be over sooner so he could get out of this web that Joe was spinning around him. "Sometimes, a man gets drunk to forget about his problems. Sometimes, because it feels good. And sometimes, he doesn't realize he's getting drunk until it's too late."

Joe waited a moment and then asked timidly, "But why did you get drunk?"

Adam shrugged. "I guess I've done it for any of those reasons at one time or another." Pa might be angry about the direction this conversation had gone. Adam gave Joe a sidelong glance. "Uh, Joe, how 'bout we keep this discussion just between us?"

Joe smiled. "Sure, Adam." He rubbed his nose with his shirt sleeve. "Adam, have you ever been in a gunfight?"

"No," Adam replied.

* * *

Joe sat in the hayloft, watching the road for as far as he could see. Finally, he saw a small cloud of dust. He watched until he could identify the wagon, then scrambled down the ladder and ran as fast as he could to the ranch house. He threw open the door and yelled, "Pa, Pa! They're here!"

Ben folded up the paper he was reading and dropped it on the coffee table. As he walked toward the door, he spoke in a soft voice. "All right, all right, son. Settle down!" He squeezed Joe's small shoulder. "Why don't you run upstairs and tell Hoss and Adam?"

"Sure!" Joe breathed as he sprinted up the stairs. Soon, the whole family was out in the yard, ready to meet their guests.

The carriage rolled to a halt and Adam gave Mrs. Hinton a hand down as Ben relayed greetings to Mr. Hinton. Sam Hinton, their nine year old son, had already leapt from the wagon and was talking excitedly with Little Joe. Wes Hinton pulled a small carpet bag out of the back of the wagon.

Ben took it from him. "Here, Wes, let me take that." He led the way into the house. Inside, Ben handed the carpet bag to Joe. "Joseph, why don't you take this upstairs and show Sam where he'll be sleeping?"

"Sure, Pa!" Joe yelled. The bag was a little heavy for him, but Joe refused help from his friend. He climbed the stairs, Sam trailing behind.

Turning to the adults, Ben noticed Mrs. Hinton squeezing her husband's hand. "He's so excited. It was all he could talk about last week!"

Ben smiled. "Oh, they'll have a wonderful time! Sometimes, I think Joe gets lonely, with no one his own age around."

Wes chimed in. "Sam's like that, too. Those kids in town have it different, but our kids have to learn how to entertain themselves."

"When they're not working!" Hoss interjected.

Hop Sing entered from the kitchen. "Dinner Ready!" he called, giving a bow to the guests. Everyone headed for the table.

* * *

Sam's mother bent down to kiss his cheek. "You behave yourself for Mr. Cartwright, you hear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the boy said sheepishly.

His father slapped him on the arm and gave a light pat to his cheek. "See you in a week, Sammy."

"Yeah, Pa. Bye," the boy waved as they boarded the wagon and rode away.

Ben turned to Sam and Joe. "Well, you boys best be getting to bed. It's late," he announced. For once, Joe didn't argue, just ran up the stairs, dragging his friend with him.

"G'night, boys," Adam called to deaf ears.

"Night fellas!" Hoss yelled.

Footsteps scrambled back to the top of the stairs. "G'night, everybody!" the small boys hollered, then ran back to the bedroom.

The three men chuckled. "Something tells me it's going to be an adventuresome week!" Adam commented.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The two boys lay on top of the boulder they had just climbed and looked out over the lake. Both rested their heads on the palms of their hands, elbows dug into the rock.

"And then, when Mr. Bevers drew, Mr. Connor was so fast that he shot him in the leg and didn't even get hurt himself!" Joe was relaying the excitement from his trip to town the other day.

"I bet I could draw real fast like that," Sam said, and got up to act it out, as if that was proof. Joe jumped up and joined him. Soon, the two had scrambled down the rock and were playing shootout on the lakeshore, taking turns falling down in mock pain.

Joe, always the clown, stepped into the water and fell in. Before long, both boys were swimming in their clothes, splashing each other and pretending to be fish.

"Boys!" Hoss' big voice boomed, even under water. The small heads popped up and looked his direction. "It's time to head home, now. Supper'll be ready before long, and you two will have to dry out!"

The boys reluctantly left the water, gathered the few things they'd left on the shore, and mounted their horses.

* * *

In sock feet, the boys snuck past all the other bedrooms and down the stairs. Joe went right to his father's gun holster and handed it to Sam. Then he picked up Adam's and herded Sam out the front door.

They walked as far away from the house as they could in the dark, which was a little ways past the bunk house. They sat down and unrolled the gunbelts. Each boy unsheathed a gun and looked at it.

"Does your Pa let you shoot?" Sam asked.

"Only when I'm with him or Adam. Hoss has a gun, but Pa won't let me shoot with him alone. What about you?"

"No, my Pa doesn't. He says I can try it when I'm eleven." Sam pointed the gun at Joe and pretended to fire. "Pow!"

Joe pushed the other boy's arm down. "Hey! Maybe we should unload 'em."

"Good idea." The two set to work unloading the guns, and then played wth them freely. Before long, they were wearing the huge gunbelts and having mock shootouts.

"It's getting really late," Joe said. "Maybe we should get back to the house."

Sam couldn't suppress a yawn as he agreed. The boys reloaded the guns and carried the gunbelts back to the house.

* * *

By the third night, the boys were getting bored with their new game. Joe thought of something else that would be fun. Once the two reached their hiding spot, he pulled a small flask out of his pocket.

"Is that-" Sam asked in surprise.

"Whiskey," Joe nodded, a devilish grin on his face.

"But won't it make us drunk?"

Joe shrugged. "I guess. Only one way to find out." He uncorked the bottle and smelled it. Then he made a face.

"Let me smell," Sam said. Joe stretched out his arm and Sam sniffed the potent liquid. "It smells kinda bad," he stated.

"Yeah," said Joe, "but a lot of people like it." He held his breath and took a quick swig. This was followed by a cough.

"Well?" Sam asked.

"Maybe it takes more," Joe said, and took another drink. After two or three

drinks, Sam tried it as well.

Joe giggled. "My face feels hot." He turned his body to face his friend, and had to throw out a hand to balance himself. "I'm kinda dizzy," he said, and giggled again.

"Me, too," Sam slurred.

"Hey," Joe said. "You're talkin' nuffy."

Sam giggled so loudly that Joe shushed him, lest he wake someone in the bunkhouse. "You said, 'nuffy' instead of 'funny,'" he cried.

When the bottle was empty, Joe tossed it aside. Sam crawled over and retrieved it. "I got an idea," he announced. He picked up the gunbelt and walked into the darkness, further from the house. Joe did the same.

Reaching a point that he felt was satisfactory, Sam stopped. He set the empty bottle on the fencepost and walked ten paces back. He picked up the gunbelt and put it on. Joe rushed to him and laid his hands on his shoulders. "Hey, wait a minute! I don't think we should-"

"Aw, they won't hear us," Sam said as he shook out of Joe's grip. "Besides, you don't have to do it if you're scared."

Joe stepped away from Sam and put Adam's gunbelt on. "All right, then."

Sam let his fingers hang over the heavy gun. He eyed the bottle, pretending it was an outlaw. Suddenly, he drew and fired.

Joe laughed. "You missed!"

Sam was angry. "Oh yeah, well, you try it!"

Joe took his position. The holster was awkward, being placed backwards to hang on his left. He counted to ten, and drew. Joe's shot hit the post, but not the bottle. After two more shots, the bottle shattered. Joe was the victor.

"Well, I still bet I'm quicker than you!" Sam challenged.

"Now, wait a minute, Sam, somebody could get hurt!" Joe protested, but Sam was pushing Joe back. Sam ran to the fenceline and stood at the ready. "Sam, c'mon, I don't wanna-" Joe saw Sam draw. Instantly, he drew and fired, hitting the fencerail at the post. The rail snapped in two pieces, and one hit Sam on the head, knocking him out. Joe dropped the gun and began to cry. He ran to Sam and tried to wake him up. Joe picked up his father's gun and fired it in the air until it was out of bullets. Then he did the same with Adam's, until he heard horses and shouting.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Over here!" he screamed, waving his arms frantically and jumping up and down. His father and brothers quickly dismounted. Ben spotted Sam lying in the dirt and checked to see if he was alive. Relieved, he picked him up. Handing the boy to Hoss, he ordered, "Adam, go get the doctor. Hoss, get Sam back to the house." The older boys mounted and rode off swiftly.

Ben turned to his youngest. Joe stood stiffly, and tears continued to pour down his face. Ben was furious. He collected the guns and stuffed them into his saddlebags. He turned back to Joe. "C'mon," he barked. Joe stiffly walked to the horse and his father hefted him onto Buck's back. Then Ben mounted behind him and they started back.

As angry as his father was, feeling his body behind him was still a comfort to Little Joe. His body shook with sobs, and soon, Ben had one arm around him, as much to keep him from falling off the horse as to comfort him. They arrived at the house and Ben helped Joe down off the horse. He retrieved the guns and followed the boy inside. The guns were placed on the side table as Ben passed. The two walked upstairs and found that Hoss had laid Sam in Joe's bed. Ben looked the boy over thoroughly in the lamplight. Not finding any visible wounds, he turned to Joe.

"What happened, Joseph?" he demanded.

Joe began crying again. Ben sat down on the bed and waited. Joe felt Hoss' strong hands on his shoulders behind him. "I took a whiskey from your cabinet," Joe began and sobs overwhelmed him. When he was calmer, he continued. "We took the guns and we were trying to shoot the bottle. But I got it before Sam did and he said he was faster than me, and-"

"You two had a shootout?!" Ben's voice boomed in the tiny room.

Joe turned to his father with pleading eyes. "I didn't mean to, Pa, I tried to stop him, but he shot at me and it-it just happened!" His little face was soaked with tears.

Ben took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Sam doesn't have any gunshot wounds. So what happened to him?"

"The board hit him."

"Board? What board?"

"Part of the fence, Pa," Hoss explained. "I saw it was broken when we rode up."

Ben turned and looked closely at Sam's head. He felt a bump on the back of it. Ben stroked the child's head and willed himself to calm down. He turned back to Joe, who was leaning into Hoss, savoring the strong grip. "Joe, come here," he said softly.

Obediently, Joe moved close to his Pa. Ben put a hand on his cheek. "Are you all right, son?" Joe nodded as a new wave of tears streaked his cheeks. Ben searched every inch of Joe's body, to make sure he was uninjured. His fingers stopped on a hole in Joe's shirtsleeve. Abruptly, he grabbed his little boy and hugged him.

Adam and the doctor arrived, and they let the doctor alone with Sam. Ben looked at his older boys, his arm still draped over Joe. "Will one of you ride out to the Hinton place?"

"I'll go," Hoss volunteered. Adam sat down in a chair, glad he didn't have to ride out in the dark again.

Ben rubbed Joe's shoulder. "You should be getting to bed," he said.

"Can't I wait and see what the doctor says?"

"All right." Ben started downstairs. "I'll put some coffee on. It's going to be a long night."

Adam watched him descend the stairs and then held his arms open to Joe. The boy climbed into his lap gratefully. Adam held him. Even though he wanted to hear the whole story, he didn't want to upset his brother again. Adam rubbed Joe's back as he held him, and even though the boy had wanted to stay up, within minutes he was fast asleep. Adam carried him to their Pa's bed and tucked him in.

Ben met Adam in the hall with a steaming cup of coffee. As Adam drank the coffee, Ben relayed Joe's story. Adam felt a growing unease in his stomach as he listened.

"Pa," he said, "I'm afraid some of this may be my fault."

"What do you mean, son?"

"When I had Joe in town the other day, that was when Bevers and Connor had that shootout. Well, on the way home, Joe asked me why they did it, and I told him it was whiskey, and then he had a million questions about drinking..." Adam hung his head. "Oh, Pa, I was just trying to be honest, but I'm afraid I made it sound interesting to him."

Ben listened, then grunted understanding of what Adam had said. Ben sat down. "You know, son, I remember when you were younger, you experimented with drinking yourself."

"Well, Pa, I wasn't ten!"

"No, but you didn't have an older brother that you idolized, either." Ben set his coffee on his knee. "Don't blame yourself for this, Adam. Joe is growing up. He knows right from wrong, and he made his own choice. He just made a terrible mistake this time."

The doctor emerged from the bedroom. The two men looked at him expectantly. "He'll be fine," the man announced. "Just a bad bump on the head, and I suspect, a bit of a hangover. Are his parents here?"

"Hoss went out after them, they should be here anytime."

"I'll stick around until then," Doc Martin announced.

"I'll get you some coffee," Ben said.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When the Hintons arrived, Ben convinced them to stay the night. The guest room downstairs was prepared for them quickly, and Wes carried Sam downstairs to sleep with them. Once they were settled, Ben said goodnight to Adam and Hoss and walked upstairs to his own room. After changing into his dressing gown, Ben gently laid himself in bed and began a prayer of thanks to God for sparing the lives of the two boys. His prayer was interrupted when Joe cuddled up to him and threw a small arm onto his stomach. Ben finished his prayer and savored the light touch of his youngest child.

Adam and Hoss woke early, ate, and headed out to join the men working in the North pasture. Ben and the Hintons discussed the situation over breakfast, and let the boys sleep as long as they could.

Sam was the first to wake. The adults examined him thoroughly to ensure he was all right. Hop Sing set a huge breakfast out for him. He ate ravenously. His only complaint was of a headache.

Joe arrived at the breakfast table with the same attention from the adults, who simply waited until the children were finished eating. After Joe had his fill, Ben called him into the living room. The Hintons called their own son over. Both boys sat on the mantle. They looked nervous, as if on trial.

Wes Hinton was the first to speak. "Sam, we'd like to hear from you what happened last night."

Sam cleared his throat and bowed his head. "Well, we been borrowin' the guns every night, to practice drawin', and we took the bullets out and everything, but last night, well we got bored. Little Joe, he got some whiskey, and we drank it, and then I told Joe I had an idea, and..." He looked at Joe nervously, cleared his throat again. "I got him to go farther from the house and we put the bottle on the fence and took turns shootin' and Joe hit it. I told him I could draw faster, and..." He began to cry. "I made Joe do it. He didn't want to!"

Lyla Hinton moved to the hearth and took her son in her arms, quieting him.

"Son," Wes said, "You know where I keep my gun at home. Have you done this before?"

New tears filled the boy's eyes. "Yes, sir," was his barely audible reply. "I go target shootin' sometimes."

Wes leaned back in his chair, feeling defeated.

"Joseph," Ben said, "You know the rules in this house, about my liquor cabinet and about guns. Whatever possessed you to do this?"

Joe hung his head. "I dunno..."

"That's no answer. You look me in the eye and give me an explanation."

Joe swallowed hard and slowly raised his gaze to meet his father's. "I took the whiskey 'cause I was curious. Grown-ups seem to like it." He swallowed again. "I had no call to do it. The guns, too. We were just playin'."

Ben leaned forward. "Do you boys realize one or both of you could have been killed?!" Ben unrolled the small shirt he was holding in his hands and put his finger through the bullet hole. "If this bullet had been an inch to the left, I wouldn't be talking with you, Joseph."

Wes sat up again. He looked at his own son. "Sam, you're lucky you just got a headache. If Little Joe's shot had been closer, there'd be a hole in your head. And did you ever think how you would feel if you accidentally killed your best friend?!"

Both boys were sobbing. This time, Lyla did not comfort Sam. She stood up. "I think it's time we went home," she announced. She and Wes said their goodbyes to Ben and Joe and walked outside to their buggy, which Wes had already prepared for the trip. Sam sluggishly followed them.

Joe listened to the buggy pulling away, and to his father's heavy steps returning. Ben sat on the settee. "Joseph, come here."

Tears were already falling even before Ben delivered the spanking. "Now, go up to your room," he instructed. Joe did as he was told, rubbing his behind with one hand.

Ben walked over to his desk and stared blankly at the safe. Turning, he noticed Marie's picture. He picked it up and dusted it with his shirt sleeve. Setting the picture down, he eased back into his chair, where he absently combed his hair with his fingers. He could hear the boy's sobs from upstairs. He knew Joe would recover from the spanking, but he needed to give him time to think about what he'd done before going up to comfort him. Ben turned his head at the sound of the front door. Hoss and Adam came in, covered in sweat and dust.

"The Hintons leave?" Hoss asked.

"Yes, just a while ago."

"Where's Joe?" Adam inquired.

"In his room. I just gave him a spanking. Don't talk to him just yet, boys. I need to do that." The boys nodded and grabbed leftovers from the table, munching on them with zest. "How's the work coming?"

"We've almost got that fence replaced. Some of those logs were rotted clean through," Hoss replied. Adam handed him a glass of water, which he drank gratefully. "Adam and I decided to get our chores done here and maybe catch a nap this afternoon, if that's all right with you."

Ben smiled, thinking of how late the young men had been up, and the long night rides they had taken. "Of course it's all right," he said.

Adam set down his glass and slapped Hoss on the back. They headed outside, replacing their hats on the way out the door.

Ben stood and tucked in his shirt. He climbed the stairs and knocked on Joe's door.

"Come in," the small voice called.

Ben entered the room, closing the door behind him. Joe sat up in his bed, his face red from the tears that had poured out of him. Ben sat on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand to stroke Joe's thigh. "You all right, now, son?"

Joe nodded slightly and scooted himself into his father's lap. Ben held him and rocked him slightly, running a strong hand along the ridges of his spine. "I'm so sorry, Pa," he whispered.

Ben hugged him briefly, then raised the boy up so he could see his face. He smoothed Joe's curls. "What have you been thinking about in here, Joseph?"

Joe swallowed and looked away. "I thought about that hole in my shirt," he said. "I really could have died?"

Ben nodded gravely.

"I thought Sam was dying last night. He wouldn't wake up, no matter what I did."

"You know, Joe, you made a couple of pretty big mistakes last night."

It was Joe's turn to nod.

"But you did one thing right." The boy's head snapped to attention. "When you fired all those rounds, we knew that the shots we heard were a call for help, and not just somebody target shooting. You got help when your friend needed it, and that was very smart."

"What's my punishment, Pa?"

"Well, you've already had a spanking..." Ben hugged the boy against his chest, resting his head on the Joe's crown. "I'm going to postpone the time when you'll be allowed a gun until..."

Joe shut his eyes, thinking his speculations had been correct.

"I feel you can handle the responsibility," Ben finished. Joe reached up and kissed Ben on the cheek and settled into his arms once more. "I love you, Joe, and I'm so glad you didn't get hurt!"

After a few more minutes, Ben put Joe off his knees. "Now, I believe there are some chores downstairs that Hop Sing could use some help with!" Joe scrambled out of the room and down the stairs, with his father walking behind.

THE END


End file.
